


What a bard wants

by so_damn_Mishalicious



Series: Witchery AU goodness [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mind Meld, No beta read we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_damn_Mishalicious/pseuds/so_damn_Mishalicious
Summary: 'He heard the last words, loud and clear, coming from Jaskier. At least he thought they did. But for some godforsaken reason, that usually always running mouth didn't move a single inch. It's impossible he knows. How else is he supposed to hear something that's not-The witch. The spell."Fuck." '---Geralt is hit with a spell that makes him hear Jaskier's thoughts. Little does he know how much the bard might keep to himself. He's bad at words. He's even worse with feelings!(The reverse!AU from screwthepurplegiraffe's amazing prompt, rated T for swearing)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witchery AU goodness [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686538
Comments: 96
Kudos: 1848
Collections: Geralt is Sorry, The Witcher Alternate Universes, Witcher





	What a bard wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bamf_babe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Penny for Your Thoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550397) by [Bamf_babe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/pseuds/Bamf_babe). 



> Read the prompt of the Geraskier mindmeld!AU from screwthepurplegiraffe about a week ago and I loved it. As always I thought: but what if it's the other way around?
> 
> So prepare :3 and enjoy!

Mages always tended to be a mayor pain in his ass.

Life itself seems to love putting him against them, turning his days in a repeating show of shit.

Stregobor. Yennefer. And now,

This one.

Geralt isn't even aware of the woman's name and he doesn't care. She's beautiful, just like the rest, but messed with the wrong people for months and now he has been hired to show her out. Not his favourite kind of job, he still prefers not to meddle in these affairs.

Jobs have been sparse the last weeks though. Him and the bard had to live off something.

So he tries a calm approach, tells her to disappear and set up her nonsense somewhere else. The plan backfires, it often does with him and talking involved.

The witch is obviously angered by his choice of words and he can only draw his sword in time when something hits him square in the chest, pulling him off his feet. He crushes into a shelf behind him with a groan.

Great. Just fucking great.

Struggling to stay awake, the edges of his vision stay blurry, darkness trying to take over. He feels slack, like all strength seeps from his body.

Propping up enough to look at the sorceress stepping over him, he can hear her tut,

"Maybe this will teach you not to disregard others' feelings that easily."

Then it all turns black.

+++

He wakes up to someone shaking his shoulders, saying his name.

"Geralt!"

_'Thank goodness, you're alive.'_

That someone is Jaskier, leaning over his form lying on the ground, worry displayed all over his face and body. The bard was supposed to wait in safe distance. Why couldn't he do as he was told for once? It is too dangerous here, for him to be around.

Sitting up with a groan, he looks around.

"The witch?"

"Gone, for a while now. Saw her leaving from my hideout and after you didn't return I grew worried, so I came to your rescue."

_'Or to cut you free from some bed. Wouldn't be the first time you indulge in their kind.'_

Geralt frowns, rubbing his face. His head pounds like shit and the bard is even sassier than usual. Nothing he's prepared for dealing with right now.

"Yeah, right."

Struggling to his feet again, with one of Jaskier's arms for leverage, he picks up his sword and fastens it to his back.

"Let's go. We better leave."

He turns around to walk out the dingy hut, when he hears the huff behind him.

' _Now look at him go. One could at least expect a little bit of gratitude like "Good job, Jaskier" or just "Thanks." - but no. Why spare the time to thank the dumb bard rushing to your aid? Stupid oaf.'_

Geralt is about to turn around and ask the other what the fuck is wrong, when he adds,

_'I'm glad he's well though. Guess I worried for nothing.'_

The Witcher visibly deflates and looks at his companion, that seems startled by his sharp turn. Giving him a once over, he huffs, before gritting out,

"Thank you. For… coming after me."

Jaskier looks like he was just hit over the head, staring at him in disbelief and awe as though he didn't just get what he complained about.

"You uh… you're welcome?"

Geralt turns around again and leave the witches lair for good, the bard chasing hot on his heels.

No need to stay here, if it isn't doing any good.

+++

The contract included to get rid of the witch. That he did. He has no proof for the kill as there had been none, but still she is gone. The job is done.

Too bad the noble man hiring him in the first place, wants to talk his way out of payment.

"You know - how can I be sure, she will not just return? Maybe she will curse me for hiring you or worse-"

"She won't." he sneers, fed up with this bullshit already.

The bard next to him smiles tentatively, probably already thinking of a way to smooth over this mess of a conversation. He has been awfully chatty ever since leaving the hut, commenting on each and everyone of their steps. It's even more than usual he usually talks and it strains his patience even more. Jaskier cocks his head in a small motion.

_'Look at this dumb prick, thinking himself so clever. As if you don't have the money to spare for us cleaning up your little affair. I tell you what: fuck you, you little fat noble shit.'_

Geralt stares at him. Hard.

The heck did the bard just say?! 

He's probably right about the affair thing, there's not a hint of magic sticking to the noble. He has fallen victim to the sorceresses charms and was blackmailed into abiding her will, but damn-

They are in deep shit.

Strangely enough the other takes no offense to those carelessly uttered words. This irritates the Witcher even more.

Then Jaskier speaks up once more,

"I can assure you, your lordship, there is no need to worry. You may rest assured, the White Wolf has taken proper care of that inconvenience. In the absolutely unlikely case another vile witch will trouble you ever again, Geralt will be more than happy to lend his helping hand, of course with a decent discount for your troubles. So if we may have our promised payment now? The day was long and even a Witcher has to rest after a successful hunt."

The noble grunts in response and fishes for a purse filled with coin, that he throws towards the Witcher. Geralt catches it in a routined motion, storing it away in a pouch. At least tonight they could stay in an inn. With the nights gradually turning colder, he's worried for the bard to fall sick. He has seen him more than once tremble under his blanket. Maybe he should get him another, a thicker one.

Jaskier bows in a flourish way.

"Thank you, my Lord. We will be on our ways now. Farewell."

_'And we'll never return to your shithole of a house again, that's for sure.'_

Geralt stares at his companion again, now for the second time but for a completely different reason. He heard the last words, loud and clear, coming from Jaskier. At least he thought they did. But for some godforsaken reason, that usually always running mouth didn't move a single inch. It's impossible he knows. How else is he supposed to hear something that's not-

The witch. The spell.

"Fuck."

+++

He can hear the bard's thoughts.

It should be impossible but with magic involved barely anything really is. And there is a lot going on inside that head.

Snippets of lyrics, some tunes drifting his mind, snarky remarks. Jaskier curses a lot. The Witcher is surprised at the rather salty thoughts the other heeds in his mind, especially towards these unlikable people, he usually treats nice and with a smile. Geralt wonders how much the other is faking to get by. If he does it with him as well.

He really shouldn't listen to the other's mind. It's a violation of privacy and as a man valuing this as well, he should do better. Jaskier always shares a lot of him, with the world, his audience. With him. But it's awfully intriguing to hear him ramble over a patron of the local inn, right in front of them that provides them yet another contract offer.

"Some beast is roaming free in the woods surrounding town. Killed seven people by now, we got the bodies at the mortician, if you want a look."

_'Seven? Really? How dumb are these people? It's not like after three villagers turning up dead, one should reconsider their passion for long walks in the night, but no. Let's wait for four more to go, before we even try to get help. Melitele's tits, help me. We're surrounded by idiots.'_

Geralt has to will a smirk from his face. The snarky bard is really getting to him. He accepts the contract nonetheless, gathers what little intel the man has before they retire to their room for the night.

+++

Even his meditation can't drown out the thoughts prodding at his mind completely. The bard is sound asleep, his deep breathing telling him as much, but obviously even his dreams or remnants of thoughts passing through at night are transferred to him. It's less than when he's awake and Geralt is grateful for that. With his own thoughts and the bard's, he feels overwhelmed and longs for some peace.

With little rest to find in his current state, he's correspondingly cranky the next morning. Jaskier blinks awake slowly, grumbling mentally about how he doesn't want to get up yet and Geralt sighs. There's the last piece of calm gone. So he rises to his feet and starts the day, beginning with washing himself down with cloth and a small basin of cool water. Shedding his shirt, he lets it fall to the ground besides his armour. He's soaking the cloth, before wringing it and drags it over his skin. It's refreshing and somewhat settling.

_'Oh sweet gods, here we go again.'_

So the bard is annoyed with him, huh? As if he isn't the one to usher Geralt into baths as often as they can. He should be grateful that he bows to his whims. 

Moving on he cleans his arms, chest and neck, earning a low hiss in response. Bending down to take off his breaches, he can hear the bard's breath hitch.

_'Oh, momma…'_

Trying not to get too irritated, the Witcher tries to block him out. If he's so annoyed, the bard is very welcome to just get up and leave the room. Pushing down the fabric over his hips and to his ankles, Jaskier's answers with a low groan.

_'Dear gods, that ass… how can a single person look that sexy? He's like one of those perfectly beautiful marble statues.'_

Geralt nearly stumbles over trying to stand again, awkwardly grasping at anything to keep his balance. Giving the air a measured sniff, it confirms his suspicion.

The bard isn't angry or upset. He's aroused. By looking at Geralt.

This does something funny to his stomach. Never had Jaskier made any advances towards him. Or did he? Mulling over all those years they travelled together, there could have been some hints. But Geralt is bad at flirting and Jaskier flirts with many people. Beds many people.

It's probably just a matter of lust. The other man also lusts after many people, it's basically integrated in his scent. The Witcher still feels oddly warm, thinking about that.

"Good morning, Geralt. I hope you slept well?"

During his internal battle the brunette has risen from the sheets, putting on a softer set of clothes instead of the bright colourful ones, he loves to wear. Trying to tame his hair, he can feel the bard sneak glances at him. He answers with a grunt.

_'Oh dear, someone seems rather grumpy today. Maybe I can do something about that? Ah yes - food. Eating always cheers him up from his morning low.'_

Geralt frowns. Does it? He enjoys regular meals but he's not exactly depending on them.

Jaskier passes him by, giving his shoulder a pat while doing so.

"How about I'll get us some breakfast, hmn? And then we can go into town, you look at the corpses and do your witchering stuff. See you downstairs."

He's all bright smiles and twinkling eyes, gone with a whirl of cheer and other emotions. It leaves the Witcher stunned for some minutes, wondering what got into him for staring at the younger like this, before he snaps out of his stupor and puts on his clothes again, preparing to follow.

+++

The main room of the tavern is rather empty, only few peasants lingering around during the early hours. Most tables are free, so Geralt chooses one in a corner, like he prefers to. It doesn't take too long for Jaskier to swoop in, setting a plate filled with meat, cheese and bread in front of him.

"Well then my friend, dig in to your heart's delight."

In his other hand, he holds a mug. His nose tells him it's only water. Frowning, he looks back to the smiling bard.

"What about you?"

His smiles flickers with irritation, before he brushes it off with an overly dramatic gesture of his hand.

"Nah thank you, I'm not hungry. Feeling a little… upset around my middle, you know? I'd rather stick to some nourishing drink in the meantime, so don't be bothered by that and eat. The corpses won't wait for you forever - well they would but..."

Zoning out of the constant chatter for now, he reaches for the first piece of meat. He almost grabs it, when Jaskier's monologue is interfered by his own thoughts.

_'It's a better explanation than to have him know, you have no coin left to pay for your own share of food. It's not too bad to skip a meal or two. Maybe I can perform tonight to restock on some money, then there's plenty time to eat. I just need to make sure Geralt doesn't notice I'm hungry.'_

His hand stops and he refuses to stare at the bard again, his stomach plummeting upon hearing these words.

Why would he do that? Jaskier always enjoyed the finer things in life, so why refrain from eating, just to have him fed in his stead?

Another thought comes to his mind.

_Is he doing this often? How come he never noticed?_

Instead of picking up food, he grabs the plate, shoving it back between the both of them.

"No, we share. I can't have you wandering around with your stomach growling loud enough to chase off all beasts before we find them."

Jaskier pretends to pout but the strain in his shoulders is slowly draining away as he picks up some bites. Geralt's golden eyes rarely leave his companion's form, making sure it's enough to bring him through the day.

He would have to be much more attentive obviously, to ensure the bard's well-being.

+++

Geralt visits the mortician. Like they promised all bodies have been kept there for him to observe. The corpses are mangled, some parts completely missing. It looks like the work of a grave hag. Nasty things they are, dangerous as well. He will have to make sure nobody, especially not a certain bard, will roam the streets at night.

Jaskier has preferred not to visit the morgue with him. Though he has seen countless dead bodies during his travels with the Witcher, it still got to him. Geralt finds him down the street, on the market, inspecting a stall with trinkets and small jewelry.

_'This one is really pretty. Too bad I have no coin left to get it.'_

His enhanced eyes make out a small leather band, holding a flower-shaped pendant. A bracelet maybe. On closer inspection the flower turns out to be a buttercup. It would be a fitting accessory for the bard, bearing his own namesake.

_'Don't fool yourself, Jaskier. You know, Geralt would never wear something like that. Especially not one gifted by the mayor nuisance of his existence.'_

Once more he curses the stupid spell for its effectiveness. These were not things for him to hear, uttered in the safe haven of the other's head, but-

It hurts. It stings to be precise, noticing how the bard sees himself, because of his behaviour. 

Neglecting his needs, undervaluing himself, even seeing himself as a burden and still - still he always thinks of the Witcher. Worries and ponders, considers gifts and acts to make him happy.

He's shit with words. And even shittier with feelings. Obviously he's also the shittiest friend once can have.

He begins to wonder why Jaskier continues to put up with him at all. He could easily find a position at the courts in the Northern kingdoms, some they have visited together even requested him to stay. The bard always turned the offer down with a polite and accompanied him back to a path of bloodshed and dirt.

Their fight on the mountain comes back to his mind and he winces. 

_If life could give one blessing…_

He had said it himself, didn't he? In his rage over his own wounded pride. The bard had been nothing but a good friend to him, ever since they met. Still he thought himself to be the one unworthy of companionship.

But it's not him. It's never him.

It's Geralt and his stupid problems to deal with emotions. To finally accept that solitude and silence isn't what he needs. That he does want something for himself. He wants-

"Geralt, there you are. Took you quite some time, I already considered you abandoning me here."

Jaskier's face is a mirror of his usually happy self. Geralt wonders how much of it is true.

He'd never abandon the bard. His bard. Not as long as he breathes.

"Are you alright? You've been behaving strangely ever since our encounter with the witch."

And he's awfully clever, too. Geralt grumbles in his usual fashion.

"Had to work out some things. We need to inspect the place where the last body was found. I want to check on something."

His friend doesn't look entirely convinced but nods, falling in step with him to reach the outskirts of town.

+++

The last body was found inside a field, so they follow the roads leading north and give Roach the opportunity to stretch her legs for a bit. Geralt is leading her, reigns in hand, while Jaskier tries to come up with some fitting lyrics to the melody haunting his mind. It's haunts Geralt as well and though the harmony is good, it's unnerving to have it repeated over and over again.

Lute in hands, the bard strums the same chords that linger in the back of his head, while mumbling to himself.

_'Star light hair, my heart longs for thee, if you only were aware, what you are to me.'_

It's a love song. Another.

Jaskier has come up with many of them in the last months. He had mentioned reconciling with the Countess de Stael. Obviously their bond inspires him greatly. His heart hurts at the thought and he tells it to shut up.

He brought this upon himself.

' _Your soul is fire, it burns and it glows, makes me weak with desire, for those golden orbs-_

_Urgh. That doesn't even rhyme! Come on think! You can do better than that!'_

The bard is probably his strictest critic in his own mind. Geralt likes the lyrics just fine.

_'When I phrase it_ **_that_ ** _obvious, I could also yell directly into Geralt's face that I love him.'_

This and one nasty bugger of a stone on the path make him stumble again, his foot slipping and he falls to the ground with a grunt. He doesn't even bring up enough decency to catch himself, so his face hits the ground.

The White Wolf faceplants into the dirt upon hearing the unintended love confession of his bard. He needs to make sure that Eskel and Lambert never catch wind of this. They wouldn't let him live this down. Ever.

Pushing himself up again, Jaskier is right by his side to help him. The other's mind is buzzing with worry and other things all coming together in an overwhelming coil of noise invading his head. Obviously the other talks as well but he can't make out his words among the fuss in his head. Irritation flares hotly and he sneers,

"Can't you be quiet for once, god damnit?!"

All thoughts screech to a hold and Geralt instantly regrets what he said. Jaskier opens his mouth to say something, closes it again, remaining silent, like he requested him to be. Geralt burns with shame, taking in the hurt blue eyes, watering with rising tears.

Fuck.

"Jaskier, I-"

"No, it's ok. I get it, I… I'll just head back to the inn, then. See you there, Geralt."

_See you around, Geralt._

It's the mountain all over again and a deep fear lodges inside his chest. He's such a fucking idiot. Why does he never learn?!

_'Why do I never learn?'_

Jaskier's face is filled with remorse and shame as he turns around, holding on to the last shreds of dignity as he trudges back into town. He's almost out of earshot, the white-haired man still rooted to the ground, unable to move, when he catches another floating thought.

_'I wonder why he still puts up with me.'_

Closing his eyes, the Witcher rubs his face, hard, groaning at his own stupidity. He doesn't deserve the other, not in the least. Jaskier is far too good for him. 

Maybe it would be the best for both of them, to just let go.

+++

When the sun sinks behind the horizon, Geralt straps both swords to his back.

"I'm heading out. Stay inside, no matter what."

The atmosphere between them is down right frigid since he returned to their shared room. The air is tense, suffocating. He hasn't come up with a proper apology yet. All words always seem to leave his tongue.

Jaskier sits by the window, staring outside through the milky glass. His mind is deathly quiet. It's unsettling.

"I know, I'm not a child."

His voice lacks any emotion, drained from him with one dumb sentence. Still his heart speaks something else.

_'Please stay safe.'_

Geralt heads for the door, opening it and stops in his tracks, just before he's gone for good.

"Jaskier…"

Blue eyes meet yellow. The Witcher swallows around the lump of emotion in his throat.

"Please take care."

The brunette nods reluctantly and he stalk away before he can make an even bigger fool out of himself. He's almost at the stairs, when he catches one more quiet thought.

_'Why does this feel like goodbye?'_

+++

The hag is dead by dawn.

But she was strong and fast, catching Geralt by surprise. Shattering all his potions against a tree. That shouldn't have happened. He can't be careless like that. More blood drenches the dark fabric of his armour, coming through the deep gash over his chest. Now he has nothing to slow down the bleeding or heal this wound.

It serves him right.

He's stumbling back towards town, the hag's severed head in one hand, exhaustion and pain becoming unbearable. Black spots dance before his eyes.

He can hear people murmuring around him, but he can't understand what they say.

The Witcher needs to get back. Back to the inn. Back to Jaskier. Get a healer next. 

_Jaskier_.

His knees buckle and he almost doubles over, holding him upright by clenching to the nearest wall. His hand leaves a bloody trail over the material.

It's no use. He won't make it. 

This isn't like the other times. His chest heaves with effort to draw air into his burning lungs.

Looks like he's about to retire from being a Witcher the way they always do.

By sheer will he drags his body further down the streets, the strain becoming too much and Geralt collapses. He's sure to hit the ground but somehow doesn't. All around him it's dark and fuzzy.

A voice is screaming. The scent of fear fills the air. Fear and salt from tears.

The voice continues to yell at him, calling his name.

_'Don't leave me please, I cannot lose you!'_

Jaskier.

"..'m...sorry…"

The voice becomes more urgent. More desperate.

_'No, please, no. I love you! Don't go!'_

Right, he does. Jaskier loves him. Does still, after all Geralt has done.

His eyes fall shut.

_I love you, too._

It's the last thing he remembers, when everything grows dark.

+++

There's pain. Excruciating pain cutting through the veil.

Geralt is pretty sure one doesn't hurt when you're dead. Otherwise it's a horse shit deal to begin with.

So he's still alive then. His whole body burns like it's lit on fire. He cannot move, cannot speak. It's unbearably hot.

A cold touch to his forehead soothes the agony raging inside his form. Words fill the air, he can't make out. He doesn't need to, he can feel their meaning as he slips into the darkness once more.

_Rest. I'll watch over you._

+++

Opening his eyes with a startle, he regrets his decision. Even with the dim light in the room, it pierces his head like blades. 

His throat is dry, like the great desert in the south, burning like he breathed fire and scorched himself while doing.

Carefully moving his head, he sees the bandages around his chest. The room around him and the bed he lies in isn't theirs.

Jaskier found a healer then. Just in time.

Like the brunette is summoned by him, the door opens and he steps inside, tray in hand. He gasps at seeing the Witcher awake.

There's no thought entering his mind. The spell is broken.

"Geralt, thank the gods, you are ok! I was so worried."

Crossing the distance to the bed and placing the tray on top of a small wooden desk, the bard drops to a chair besides the cot. It looks like he sat there for hours.

"You gave me quite a scare! I was concerned with all the blood and the… the…"

Jaskier's voice is raw with emotion. Hurt and relief battling for the upper hand.

"I thought I would lose you forever."

"I know. I'm sorry."

He is. He really is.

"I'm sorry for everything, Jas. For what I said at the field. For the mountain. I'm the worst friend one can have and you still endure all my idiocy with the patience of a saint. I cannot make this up to you, ever."

Jaskier just shakes his head, smiling weakly, while wiping his face with his sleeve.

"How wouldn't I? You're my best friend, Geralt."

Yes he is. Jaskier is probably the only friend he ever had. He's the best. He has to know.

"The witch I fought the day before. Or maybe two days ago?"

It's hard to track time when being unconscious for so long.

"Whatever. She hit me with a spell. Cursed me to be exact."

The bard gasps in shock like the intensely responsive listener that he is.

"I knew it! I knew you acted strange, why didn't you tell me Geralt?! We surely could have worked something out to break it."

Geralt hummed, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"The curse wasn't all that bad… it made me hear your thoughts."

Silence. No noise is meeting his ears. 

Opening his eyes to look at his friend again, he sees him shocked, embarrassed and flushed up to the tip of his ears.

"Y-you what? You - you mean everything everything? Each and every single one?!"

"Yeah."

An undignified squeak leaves the other man and if possible, he blushes an even darker shade of red. It's endearing to see him like that.

"B-but then you… you…"

"Yes. I heard it."

The three words the bard uttered so easily in his mind. The feelings he carried in his heart for years, decades. It was time to set them free.

Geralt is tired of hiding.

"And I love you, too."

Jaskier stares at him like he has seen a ghost. His brash confession sends him into another sputter of scrambled words.

"You, you do? But I thought - you never, no we both, we uh… fuck."

The Witcher huffs in amusements, a fond smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"The great bard is at loss for words. What a day to be alive."

Him being alive is all thanks to that bard. His bard.

"Enough teasing. Give us a kiss, now. I'm aching like shit and need a proper distraction."

They do kiss. It's gentle, warm, avoid of hurry. It soothes his heart and soul, brushes over his mind, settling it to ease.

It's perfect. And he doesn't want it to end.

There's another, then another. A long row of kisses, slowly growing more heated with longing. Pulling the bard down to the bed with him, he's careful not to irritate the wound while he nips on Jaskier's throat and the bard sighs in pleasure.

Maybe together they can figure out what his bard wants, even without any mind reading abilities. 

They have more than enough time to do so.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave feedback and such in the comments 😊💜


End file.
